Never Said Goodbye

Like Jarvis, Liam, Noel and Damon, Cerys Matthews was one of those Britpop luminaries whose tabloid ubiquity rendered a surname irrelevant. Unlike the boys, however, Cerys rarely looked like justifying her profile with her musical output.
To those of us who were unmoved by the bog-standard lad-rock of her alma mater, Cockahoop, Matthews’ folk-tinged debut solo album was a lovely little shock of a record – flush with drunken sing-songs and teary wake-up tunes. It stiffed commercially, and had little impact on the end-of-year polls – but when dusted off for the odd play, it made (and, indeed, still makes) for wonderfully warm company.
Three years later and here comes Never Said Goodbye, and for those of you who enjoyed Cockahoop’s endearingly down-home charm, I’d suggest you pull up a stool and get ready for another good-humoured ear bashing.
Never Said Goodbye is impossible to dislike. If Matthews has decided to pull back from a full-on roots/folk detour (there’s a slickness to the production on tracks like ‘Ruby’ that suggests Cerys hankers for a return to Radio One), there are still enough quixotic diversions to justify your love. First single ‘Open Roads’ is a lovely, bittersweet ode to the travelling life, ‘Blue Light Alarm’ is lifted off the ground by a gorgeous, Nyman-esque string score, ‘This Endless Rain’ is a show-stopping weepie of the first order.
Overall, the moments when Never Said Goodbye soar highest are those when Cerys sounds low.
And when she does, the last thing on your mind will be Road Rage.